Tag Archives: julietalk

JulieTalk Live Montreal’s new weekly most ruthless online broadcast.

If you still haven’t caught an episode , here’s your chance. Julietalk brings topics to the table and hosts no limit conversations finally allowing truths to come out and lessons to be learned.
Be part of the fun, tune in.


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JulieTalk Live Episode 5

Click on the picture below to view JulieTalk Live Episode 5.

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June 13, 2014 · 1:58 am

Check out the new promo.

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April 24 1915: A genocide today.

We know the history; we have known it for a long time. April 24, 1915 is the date of the Armenian genocide. All surviving Armenians and following generations know endless stories about the genocide, gory details, escape adventures, death. We know the stories but have we ever allowed ourselves to feel the pain? Or even just a glimpse of that pain.

Though those times have past, those times were real, those people were real, and those emotions were real.

The rumors we heard about them coming are real, I can already see the soldiers knocking on our neighbours’ doors, everybody’s outside, and I can hear screaming and crying. They’re now at our door. They’re telling my husband we need to leave right this moment. They say were temporarily being deported. My girls are running around excited, they don’t understand what’s happening, and I don’t understand what’s happening. “Can I bring my doll?” asks five year old A1. They’re heavily armed and are waiting at the door step for us to leave the house; they won’t even allow us to pack up. My heart feels heavy already, feels like an implosion of emotions. I am scared, but first I am a mother, so I am strong. As we’re forced to head for the door I look around trying to find anything I can take along. I grab a blanket. Two year old A2 is getting scared, she knows something’s wrong, we never leave the house this way, with strangers at our door, she wants me to carry her, but I’m already carrying A3. The moment we set foot outside the reality of it all hits us. The looks on people’s faces said it all. No one is asking questions, its complete chaos yet it is completely clear what is happening. The crying and the screaming is bone chilling. They order Jack to stand on this side of the street and point me and my daughters to the other. They’re separating the men from the woman. I am walking with my head up straight, carrying 18 month old A3, while tightly holding A1’s and A2’s hands. I don’t want them to feel my fear. I can’t even bare to turn back to see Jack having to watch us walk away. I can’t even think of what he’s feeling right now. A man watching his family being taken away, not knowing if they will be safe, not having the chance to protect them.

We will be taken away and we will walk for weeks through the desert. Those who can’t keep up will be killed; the rest will die from dehydration. How long will two year old A2 be able to walk on her own? How long will I be able to carry A3 in my arms? Which one of them will die first and how? What if I am killed first, who will care for them? How can I protect them from fear, hurt and death? How will I carry all three? How will I choose between their lives? Stay with my dying child on the side of the road or carry on with the other two? How will I be able to walk away? What have I done to deserve this? Why are they doing this to us?Image

With shivering hands and tears rolling down my face I don’t think I can write another word.

I am blessed to only have to imagine this pain. The 1915 Armenian genocide is real, the suffering is real.

This happened, these feeling were felt by Armenian Women, Armenian women who valued the same things I value today. Nobody deserves this today and nobody deserved it then.

We cannot forget the 1.5 million lives that were lost and we can certainly not forget the suffering they lived through.

Genocide is happening over and over again. We all need to speak up and react. We will not shut our eyes and mouths and let this keep happening. This April 24, speak up. Be heard. Stand up.

For all the mothers who watched their children die, for all the fathers who lost their families, for all the children who never again got to receive their parents love.

Stand up.






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Will be guest hosting the Uncle Mike show tonight at 9 pm live. Tune in www.theunclemikeshow.com

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Bed time: A mind war

It’s almost 9:30 pm. 23 month old A2 is standing up wailing in her crib. 5 year old A1 who shares the bedroom is narrating what’s happening and A3 just woke up by the chaos.


It’s these moments that keep me in peace.

A2 just tossed her blanket and pacifier out of her crib again. I tried explaining to her that if she tosses them again, she won’t get them back… but we both know that she won’t sleep without them. So this is another mind game.

She threw them out, again, and she’s still crying. I tried taking them for a while. She cried… I held on to them for a few minutes then gave them back. That will work, I hoped.

Well it didn’t. She tossed them out within the same second and is still crying.

I went back to my chair without picking them up. And here I am. I’ve written about the chair before. I have a chair set up outside their bedroom, where I sit until they fall asleep. It’s been a while though. They’ve been good lately and didn’t require me to sit here until they fell asleep. But A2’s getting close to the crazy two’s and so I’m back here again.

It’s been a few minutes, I’m wondering if I should get up and hand her the pacifier and blanket just yet. Her cries are sounding more and more tiresome, with yawning intervals.

I got up and handed them to her, came back to my seat. I talked to her…I shouldn’t have talked to her.

She just threw them out again!

She wins this round, again.

Why don’t I just yell at her?

Because then I would teach her that yelling is a mean of communication that I use.

Because then she will fall asleep with fear having been her last emotion of the day.

Because then I would have put my child to bed in anger.

I’m hoping there’s a better solution.

I’ll figure it out…eventually.

This isn’t working.

A1 just suggested “call dad.”

Ya, call Jack and have him do the dirty work…

Ok one more try…

I tried the utter most tenderness. I went in, didn’t say a word picked her up, held her tight, kissed her, cleaned her face from tears, leaned down with her, she reached for her blanket and pacifier. I stood up, still not saying a word, I pointed to my cheek, she reached in and gave me a kiss. Then I pointed to her crib, placed her in. Sung her a lullaby and walked out.

Went back to my chair.

By the time my butt touched the seat …

She was already up and bawling again.

That was a complete fail.

Jack just came up. He gave it a go…

He tried tenderness, some discipline, yelled a little, played a little, danced a little…

Still a no go.

He leaves.

We should make them pay for tickets at this point, because we’ve become a show!

Ok I’m desperate; it’s been over 40 minutes. I know she’s tired.

I take out my phone and go online. Search for an Armenian Lullaby. I play it and go back to my seat.

She stopped.

This song is really beautiful.

She’s sleeping.


The power of music…

They’re sleeping in peace, no one got mad at another, no anger, no fear, no guilt.

Just love and music.

Ah… now that this is done, I should start with my chores… I’ll rest when I’m old.


P.S Listen to this song, it will make any man, woman or child give in to slumber.


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Tomato crime scene

Today, A2 came home from day care with two really large tomatoes. She had picked them herself from the daycare’s teacher’s garden. I can just imagine the fit she threw in order for them to let her pick them. She comes home and orders me “open !”.

I just had time to wash them when she grabbed one of them and sunk her teeth in them. She has my teeth… That means she can do a lot of damage.
Her face was covered in that tomatoes juices, it was dripping down to her chin and into her shirt. That’s how food ends up in our children’s diapers. You open up their diapers and find out what they’ve eaten that day. I’m not talking about the poop, I’m talking about the food you find, as is. It’s like a buffet it there .
After she was done with that identity challenged fruit or vegetable , the house was covered in tomato juice and seeds. Me and my mom were walking around the house with rags in our hands looking for tomato crime scenes.
Sometimes there was even a blood trail leading up to the scene.
Once we got her face, the stairs, the carpet and the couches all cleaned up me and my mom were sitting and laughing at it all, when my mom said to me” wipe you nose, you have something.”
I must admit I didn’t go for a tissue and went straight for it.
It, was a tomato seed.




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Potty training in the middle of the family room .


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August 19, 2013 · 4:56 pm